The Wisdom of a Woman
by lycanus1
Summary: Where a wise woman tries to prevent a proud man from falling further ... into despair.


**Title:** The Wisdom of a Woman  
**Author:** Lycanus  
**Fandom:** King Arthur  
**Character(s):** Vanora; Tristan  
**Rating:** T  
**Type:** hurt/comfort; friendship  
**Summary: **Where a wise woman tries to prevent a proud man from falling further ... into despair.  
**Comments & Reviews:** positive comments welcomed.  
**Disclaimer:** The awesomely brilliant Vanora and a certain mercurial, enigmatic Scout are _NOT_ mine - no matter how much I wish they were ... They _still _belong to Jerry Bruckheimer & Touchstone Pictures - godsdammit !

**Warning:** _contains hints at slash, some pretty strong language and ... ye gods ! One very strong, highly intelligent woman ! Vanora - I salute you !_

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**The Wisdom of a Woman**

She'd been going about her business, collecting empty tankards, goblets and wooden bowls, when her gaze suddenly fell upon him.

Sitting alone in the darkest corner of the tavern, he cradled a large tankard in both hands. Before him on the rickety, old, oak table sat a clay ewer full of ale, a hunting knife, one red apple and several cores.  
There was a stillness about him. But it wasn't the calm found within a soul at peace. It held an air of expectancy, a sense of anticipation, and although he was hunched over the drinking vessel, not a drop of ale passed his lips. The tension in every fine line and sinew of his lean, lithe frame was unmissable.

A familiar deep, rumbling laugh of genuine amusement suddenly distracted him. His dark head jerked upwards, braids flying as he turned towards the sound. Instinctively, she followed his gaze which fell upon a table in the middle of the room. Where four of the Sarmatian knights sat.

No one could fail to recognize the table's loudest and most outspoken occupant. He was one of the older men. A Roxolani. The garrison's best fighter. The stocky, good-natured warrior also happened to be her lover and the father of her unruly brood of little bastards. Bors.  
Two of the Halani tribe sat with him. Gawain and Galahad. The former, fair as day with the temperament to match. Fun-loving, reliable and trustworthy. A man no one had a bad word against, who was loved by all. The latter, was younger. Dark as night. Restless, hot-headed, impetuous and passionate about life. They were brothers-in-arms. Shield-mates. Thick as thieves. Yet despite their continuous bickering - which made them sound like an old, married couple - they were loyal to each other and always had each other's back.

Yet these three men weren't responsible for capturing and holding the dark-haired loner's attention. She heard him sigh softly and realized that all he saw was the fourth man at the table. The tall, scarred, cropped-haired Roxolani healer. Bors' kinsman and younger cousin. Dagonet.

Vanora sadly shook her flame-hued curls and approached the brooding, solitary figure. This had gone on for far too long. It was about bloody time someone did something about it.

" Why do you persist in torturing yourself, Scout ? " she asked softly, her pretty face full of concern.

The look on Tristan's lean, noble face damn near broke her heart. The Aorsi was watching his former lover with such reverence, such love, that it took her breath away. His striking, highly intelligent eyes lingered over the gentle giant's powerful physique like a lover's caress. Tenderly. Adoringly. Passionately, Yet his steady, yearning gaze also held a wealth of sorrow and regret. And its intensity was palpable.

" Dunno what the bloody hell you mean, woman ... " the half-hearted, monotonous snark made Vanora raise a quizzical eyebrow. The usual biting sarcasm was definitely lacking in the death-dealer's husky, faintly accented voice. And that in itself was cause for concern.

" _No ?_ " she enquired, placing the tray that held the used tankards down on the table's rough, knotted surface. She calmly gathered her skirts and sat beside him. " You sure about that ? Because it sure as hell doesn't look like it from where I'm sitting ... It's high time you stopped tormenting yourself like this, Tristan. Time for you to get off your scrawny arse and _do _something. You've both suffered enough. For too long ... "

" After what I did to him. _I _deserve to suffer, " Tristan muttered gloomily, looking the picture of dejection as he devoured the tall Healer with his eyes.

" Bollocks ! " Vanora snapped in frustration, startling the Scout. He reluctantly tore his gaze away from the object of his affections to watch her warily. " That's a load of bullshit, you daft, Aorsi bastard and _you_ damn well know it ... " She sighed and ran a tired hand through her thick, titian mane and eyed him steadily. And she didn't like what she saw.  
Like Dagonet, the Scout wasn't coping well with separation. Tristan had always been lean and athletically built, but now he'd become so slight that he was positively wraith-like. Not only that, he possessed a deathly pallor that further enhanced the tattooed stripes on his cheekbones and also made his striking, honey-coloured eyes appear feverish.  
It was clear to Vanora that even after all this time apart, that both Scout and Healer were pining for and would never get over each other. That they were still in love. Intensely and passionately so.

" You, Tristan, fucked up. You can't deny that you gravely wounded Dag. " Seeing him about to interrupt, Vanora placed her forefinger lightly against his lips and gave him a stern glare. But her heart swiftly softened when she noted the genuine anguish and desolation on the man's normally impassive face. And despite her fiesty nature and reputation for having a formidable and fiery temper, her kind, caring nature refused to deny him the compassion she felt towards him. She continued gently, "_ You _made a mistake, Tris. A bad one. Pure and simple. But it isn't one that can't be made right, if you want it badly- "

" That'll never happen, Van- "

" Oh, bull ! 'Course it can ! Never thought I'd see the day when an Aorsi would give up on what he wants. Prove me wrong, Scout. I dare you ... Fight for what, or rather _who_, you want. Who you love ... You hold his heart, Tristan, for as long as there's still life in the pair of you. No one else will ever possess it ... It beats for you, Scout. For you alone. But he's still hurting after what you did. A lot. You're going to have your work cut out trying to win back his trust ... "

Tristan sighed and with an unusually unsteady hand rubbed his bearded jaw. " That's impossible. Dag can't bear to look at me. He avoids me whenever he can and if he has to be in my company, he can't bring himself to speak to me ... He hates me, Van. I've lost him ... For good. " He turned away to glare sombrely into his tankard.

" Tristan ! Look at me ... _Look at me ! _Now you listen to me, you stubborn, proud fool and you listen good ... _You _are going to do everything - and I _mean_ everything and anything - in your power to prove to that man of yours that you're genuinely sorry for what you've done. For the pain you've cause- "

" Bu- "

" Tristan, just shut the hell up and fucking listen. If it means crawling through the very fires of hell on your hands and knees, you're going to do i- "

The handsome Scout glared at her, irritation flared within him and made his eyes blaze fiercely. " And I have to do this becau- ? "

" Oh, for mercy's sake ! You're the one who made a mistake, you daft sod. A stupid, miserable, drunken mistake, I grant you. One that you didn't initiate, but it still doesn't change the fact that you were the one who did wrong. _Not_ Dagonet ... You owe it to him, Tris ... And if it means falling onto your sword and admitting that you know you were wrong - that you hate hurting him more than anything - and _will_ fight tooth and nail for him ... Then you do it, Tristan. Prove to him you'll do anything to make it up to him and while you're at it, prove to me that what I believe _is_ right ... That you love him more than anything. More than life itself ... "

" So, you're saying that _if _I fall on my sword - that if I become the bigger man - there's a chance I could win my wolf back ? " Tristan rasped, his voice unusually hesitant, yet his golden eyes held a glimmer of hope as he finally began to realize what Vanore meant.

" At bloody last ! It's _finally _sunk in ... Give the Scout an apple ... " Vanora teased gently, an impish grin on her lovely face.

" Are you mocking me, woman ? " he growled softly, yet there was no anger nor malice in it.

" Maybe just a little ... " the fiesty redhead admitted, smiling at him fondly. " Make it up to your wolf, Scout. Neither of you can go on like this for much longer. Being apart's making your lives hell ... Just don't be too proud to end this. To make the first move. Dag won't do it. not with him being so shy 'n' all ... It's up to you to sort things out. To win back your soul mate. " Vanora rose gracefully to her feet and reached for the tray that held the tankards. She paused and gently squeezed the unhappy knight's shoulder.

" Bors is lucky to have you, " he stated quietly. " He's fortunate to have a lover who's intelligence equals, if not exceeds, her beauty. If I were free to love another, Bors would have some serious competition. I hope he appreciates you ... "

Shaking her head, Vanora laughed softly. " You would risk my Bors' wrath ? Do you have a death wish or are you just insane ? "

The Scout grinned. It was the first real, genuine smile - one that reached and lit up his eyes - that Vanora had seen from him since Dagonet had broken things off between them. " Well, you know what they say ... love can be man's ruin ... It makes fools of us all and when it comes to my wolf - my Dag - I'm the biggest fool there is ... "

" So, you'll heed my words ? " she asked hopefully.

He gave a slight nod, accompanied by a faint smile. " Aye ... I _will _heed and mark what you say ... I need him, Van. My life's just an empty shell without Dag. I love him ... "

" I know, love, " Vanora smiled, " it's in your eyes. Whenever you look at, think or speak of him. It's unmissable ... " Her smile deepened as she noted the faint stain of colour gracing his cheeks.

Tristan shifted in his chair and leisurely stretched his long, sinewy legs in front of him. He watched her with mild curiosity. " Tell me ... why ? "

" _Why_ what ? "

" Why are you here ? Talking to me ? Bothering with me ? Not them ... "

Vanora bent down and closed the gap between them.

" It's because you're family too, Tris. I see you as my brother and I care about the pair of you. I saw how happy you and Dag were together. Happiness like that is a rare gift, Tristan. It's precious. Something to be treasured. Prized ... And that's how you look at our Dag. You treasure him. Respect him. Love him ... " She paused then affectionately squeezed his suede-clad shoulder once more. " Don't walk away from what you both had . Could still have. It's far too precious - too special - to give up without a damn good fight ... Trust me, Scout, a woman _always _recognizes that. It's something a woman instinctively knows ... "

And with that final piece of advice, Vanora left a silent, contemplative Scout to ponder her words of wisdom.

**Finis  
**


End file.
